


Gone

by riel



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, jack/geoff isn’t shown but it’s there, jeremy/michael isn’t really shown either but they’re both love gavin in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 16:25:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15465411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riel/pseuds/riel
Summary: Ray doesn’t know what he’s thinking, breaking into the crew’s safehouse when he ran away a year ago.A part of him misses everyone.Especially Ryan.





	Gone

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by my bf who wrote some fics which in turn inspired me to write angst! anyways, this one’s for you, noah. un-beta’d.

  
Ray’s hands, clammy and clumsy and very unlike him, fumble with the keys he impulsively dropped into the left pocket of his pants as he’d impulsively slid onto his bruised red motorbike (the one Ryan’d gotten him for the first Christmas, he remembers guiltily) and impulsively drove all the way out here on the outskirts of the city.

  
He hasn’t even been in Achievement City for the last couple months. Just out doing jobs around the country - alone - when he found a newspaper talking about the crew. His former crew. The shame that had building up inside him for over a year now couldn’t take it, and he’d made his way back to his old apartment.

  
Even Ray’s old apartment looks different now. There’s no more overgrown grass and vines crawling up the old building, no more cracked paint on the door handle, no more of the messy dirt pathway that lead up to the door. Someone took it upon themself to renovate the building, apparently, and it did nothing but make the sniper feel more and more homesick.

  
He quietly runs his thumb over the ring as he hangs just a few meters away from the door, feeling the nicks where he’d dropped these and the worn areas of the metal where the keys sat. Half of him is glad he remembered where the traps of the driveway near the main safe house was, but at the same time, Ray’s stomach is doing knots and twists and he doesn’t want to see their faces. Not when he just up and completely disappeared like that.

  
Still, he has to face his demons eventually (even if those demons happened to be his former friends and the only people he’s ever trusted, Ray thinks to himself bitterly), and he can’t turn back now. The laces on his shoes aren’t even tied as he steps in front of the door, gripping the keys tightly as if they would slip away from him.

  
“They wouldn’t have changed the locks, right?” Ray mutters into the lonely night, grabbing the first key and pushing it into the top lock. Click. “They wouldn’t have any good reason to, would they? Nobody’s ever found out about this place.” But his own reassurance feels empty. What if they have changed them? What if they’re locking me out?

  
He squeezes his eyes shut, turning the key. It seems like an eternity, and he waits for it to not work, and for himself to try every key frantically before giving up and walking away from his former home in pain-

  
It works.

  
A breath of relief escapes him, like he’s not in control of his own body. Get a grip, Ray. He slides in the other keys in the familiar locks, muscle memory guiding him half the way there. Of course, he still fumbles with a few, but it’s been a whole twelve months and the cold touch of the locks as he unlocks them is unfamiliar and makes him feel more empty than before. 

  
He practically snatches the last key from the lock as the door slowly creaks open. The wooden door still has splinters on the side, Ray notices forlornly, quietly running a hand over it as to not impale himself with the wood. He can’t remember how many times Gavin had whinged about it to Geoff, begging him to replace the door.

  
The small smile that had started to form on his face crumples with the old memories. He’s fucked up too much to ever have something like that again. Maybe his crew won’t recognize him anymore, maybe he’s too different now, and maybe they’ll just shoot him down the minute they catch sight of him in their safehouse. Ray doesn’t know whether he should feel scared or not. Maybe it’s what he deserves.

  
Ray realizes how little the house has changed. The front is still messy, piles of clothing and pairs of shitty shoes laid across the wooden floorboards. He wants to think back to last year, when he’d bend down and pick them up and humorously groan as he walked upstairs and threw it in the face of whoever’s clothes it was.

  
He quietly sighs, turning his face away. He was here now. It was a little too late to try and say or do anything, especially with how he was inside. Even though he’s broken into a number of houses before, none of them plague him with such guilt as this one. Even if he technically had the keys. Maybe they’d forgotten he had them.

  
A small, hopeful part of Ray wants to say that they were waiting.

  
But it’s unrealistic, so Ray stops that thought before it can form and takes a few more steps inside. He bites the inside of his cheek, hoping nobody’s awake. He knows they’ll be in here, at least. It was the place everyone felt safe at. Including him. His shoulders almost seem to relax in here, but being welcome is the last thing he knows will happen.

  
Looking at the framed pictures of the crew on the wall, Ray can tell that a lot of things have happened. There’s a tiredness in their eyes, and he stiffens when he notices that the group photo of the six of them is gone. There’s not even a picture in its place - just a patch of white plaster, and it’s now that he realizes they repainted the walls. It’s hard to tell in the dimly lit entrance, but it makes everything feel even more foreign.

  
Ray thinks he’s going to be sick. Everything is so different, so strange now, and it’s all happened without him. He should go. He has to go, and he’s about to turn around and dash outside and run away from Achievement City, this time foreve-

  
“You’re going to be fine.” He faintly hears a gentle voice call out a from around the corner, and his heart drops. Ray’s frozen, his feet feeling like they’re clamped onto the ground, his eyes wide and his face pale. The voice is so familiar, it’s so fucking familiar, with the way the words are emphasized and that stupid fucking accent. “None of us were chafed just because you got injured. We all have our bloody off days, not just you.”

  
He hears a quiet, mumbled response in return. Ray’s head turns backwards, almost mechanically. He couldn’t hear whoever that was before, too distracted by the house and he doesn’t know how he didn’t notice the faint light coming from the kitchen before. But - but fuck, that’s Gavin, and hearing the tenderness in his voice tempts Ray enough to sneak closer.

  
The voices continue to talk (he still can’t identify the other person- probably not Geoff or Jack, Ryan doesn’t talk and Michael isn’t quiet.), breaking the silence he thought he had before. They do turn out to be in the kitchen, and Ray sneaks behind a wall in the living room. He doesn’t think Gavin and whoever that was could see him from here. Hopefully not.

  
Then, Ray catches a glimpse of the Brit’s face and he has to hold in a gasp. Because it’s him, and the soft light illuminating the room seems to make him light up in a faint golden light, reflecting off his dirty blond hair in ribbons. It’s been so long since he’s seen any of them, and the loose strands in his hair and the warmness in his green eyes makes him feel so distant from the rest of them.

  
The person with his back to him sighs, rubbing circles into his temples. “I know, I know, Gav. This is gonna be my first big job in a while, y’know?” His shoulders sag, and alarmingly, Ray didn’t recognize the voice at all. Even if it was to be expected that they’d pick up new members... he couldn’t help but feel a bitter spark of jealousy alight in his chest.

  
Gavin, unaware of the sniper’s alarm, smiles, reaching for the others’ hand and intertwining their fingers together with softness in his green eyes. The sniper feels himself freeze up at the intimate gesture, whatever the blond saying seeming like there was an ocean between then, drowning out his words. Have they just completelg forgotten about me?

  
It’s an awful thought, and Ray almost begins to believe in it. After all, it’s been long enough for them to forget. And maybe they do want to forget, after he betrayed their trust and ran out on them. He wants to forget, sometimes.

  
Then, he remembers the keys hanging around two of his fingers and sucks in a breath. They would’ve changed the locks, or maybe moved, or anything else if they’d really wanted to forget Ray. If they really wanted to forget him, he wouldn’t be here, in the house he’d known for years.

  
His heart begins to slow, his head stops pounding, and Ray nearly stumbles over his own feet, the keys still in his tight grip. The light from the kitchen isn’t enough to light up the wall he’s hiding behind, and half of him still feels lost: this is home, but at the same time, it isn’t... not anymore. Ray exhales deeply. He needs to calm down, and his version of calming down is definitely not haphazardly grabbing at whatever’s solid on his left.

  
The sound of multiple things crashing follows.

  
Both Gavin and the other person freeze, and Ray curses as he can hear a quick murmur of ‘what the fuck was that?’ and ‘stay here’ as the pattering of footsteps draws closer and closer. He’s not ready for this, he doesn’t want to see any of the crew right now and his panic isn’t soothed by the sight of a light flickering in the hallway. Of course he had a flashlight.

  
His foot is trapped under a pile of suitcases and paper, and despite how small each of the suitcases are, they feel like bricks. And it’s a fuckton of paper, who knows how long that pile’s been building up? They used to leave plates out on the dinner table till a pile of fourty or so of them came tumbling down on the unfortunate one of them that’d trip towards it.

  
Now was really not a good time for a trip down memory lane, Ray scolds himself and scowls. Scowling at himself, at his plight, at the world. Wrapping his arms around his leg, he yanks and manages to pull it out of the pile. It’s aching, and Ray really wishes he’d gotten out of the house when he had the chance.

  
The light gets brighter and closer, and the sniper feels his feet spring up in reflex, wincing at the feeling of his sore left ankle on the floor. Tentatively, Ray places more pressure on it, hoping the aching would fade away. Sure, he’s gotten a lot worse on a lot more risky situations before, but maybe it’s the fact that he’s in his former crew’s house that’s making it feel worse. 

  
His eyes flicker about, looking for somewhere he could hide, somewhere he could run, and god it’s been so long since he’s been in this house and everything feels different, everything’s moved, and he’s trapped and he doesn’t have anywhere he can fucking go-

  
“Ray...?”

  
The whisper catches him off guard, and he gapes, turning around. And suddenly, he’s faced with wide green eyes with distress ringing in them, messy blond hair that’s sticking out just about anywhere (he can see the tips of Gavin’s hair, faded to the dirty brown their natural color was) and faced memories seem to smack the voice out of his throat. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but the words die on the tip of his tongue.

  
Gavin looks like he’s just seen a ghost. Ray might as well consider himself one, with how he disappeared into the shadows. He can barely open his eyes, with how the flashlight’s pointing right into them, but the Brit slowly lowers them. “Oh... oh god. It’s really you, isn’t it?”

  
His voice is hoarse, tired, and nothing Ray would’ve expected the Golden Boy to sound like. It takes him by surprise, his eyes widening more than he thought they could. “Fuck, I... you shouldn’t be here.” Gavin manages to mumble out, pale and shaking and chuckling softly while shaking his head. Ray’s never seen Gavin cry, but he looks pretty fucking close to it right now

  
“Gavin?” The person that was at his side from earlier steps into the light behind him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

  
“You know who this is?” He glances at Ray with a mixture of confusion, worry and suspicion in his voice.

  
Now that Ray can see him clearer, he can see that whoever this is has messy brown hair with the top half dyed purple, and he’s wearing purple-tinted sunglasses (Ray would’ve laughed at the fact that he was wearing sunglasses at night if the situation wasn’t so bad) and there’s an unreadable look in his eyes.

  
The blonde slowly nods, eyes focused on Ray with his lips pressed together tightly. “I’ll... I’ll explain later, okay, Jeremy? I’m going to get Geoff and the others, Michael, just make sure he stays put.” There’s a flash of something else in Gavin’s eyes as his stare lingers on Ray for a second longer, but it’s too quick to see.

  
And just like that, Gavin is gone in a flash. Now, Ray’s stuck here with Jeremy, a complete stranger, who’s staring at him with an intensity that’s beginning to make him uncomfortable. It could be worse, he reasons. Gavin could have shot him. It could’ve been Ryan, staring him down with pain and a tired look in his silent eyes.

  
The thought alone makes Ray shiver. It’s one thing to have seen Gavin like that, but he doesn’t want to imagine Ryan’s gentle, sweet blue eyes looking at him like he’d broken everything he cared about, even if it was in, some way, true. As kind and calm as the mute assassin was (or at least, the one he knew), he was still the Vagabond and could be plenty terrifying.

  
“So...” He hears Jeremy say from his right, shifting on the spot. “You’re Ray? I... I heard Gavin say your name.” He scratches at his neck with his free hand, the other loosely holding onto the flashlight as it points to the spot on the floor right in front of him. It’s barely lighting them up now.

  
He doesn’t reply, but Jeremy keeps talking, now adjusting his sunglasses. “They, uh, told me stuff about you. Talked about you a lot when I got here, actually.” He wrinkles his expression, his eyes guarded behind the lenses. “Gav and Michael tell me a lot, too. You’re a sniper, huh?”

  
Jeremy firms his grip on the flashlight, flipping it up to shine on himself and Ray. “You were pretty important to them, right?” He pauses. “I guess you’re important enough to disappear for - what was it, a year? - and break into the house, huh?” He laughs weakly. With anyone else, Ray would’ve taken it as a jab, but Jeremy’s weak attempt at humor at least makes the edges of his lips curl up.

  
He’s about to reply, but the ceiling lights suddenly flash on, and Ray has to shield his eyes from it. Nearly tripping over yet again, he leans against the wall and freezes when he opens his eyes again.

  
Five more pairs of eyes, all burning on him.

  
“Hi.” The dark-haired man croaks, waving awkwardly with the keys jingling and hanging by his finger. Ray feels like a frightened deer caught in headlights, surrounded by the gaze of his (former, he stresses, reminding himself of his mistakes) teammates. He fiddles with his fingers and can’t find it in himself to meet their gazes. “It’s uh, been a while.”

  
The hardened look on Geoff’s face - like the one he’d give to people challenging his authority, his territory, his crew, his family - makes him feel small and awful and lost. The nagging voice in his head telling him he doesn’t belong here doesn’t stop growing louder, though.

  
“Haven’t seen you around.” Geoff says, carefully, something in his posture stiffening as Jack places a comforting arm on his shoulder. There’s no emotion in his voice, he’s kept it level and calm and Ray almost flinches. He doesn’t know what he expected, but he just wants to hold onto his memories of the Fake AH Crew, all smiling and happy and here. Back when here was safe, back when he was in Ryan’s arms, back when he was part of this family too.

  
And he’d been the one to ruin it, a year ago.

Ray inhales sharply, realizing the older man was expecting an answer. “Uh. Yeah. Been in and out of town, doing jobs. You know, the usual.” Yeah, if the usual meant being a fucking sentimental idiot, he thinks to himself. He remembers how joining the crew turned him from nothing into something, and a wave of sickness washes over him again. He can’t fix this. Nothing can, he thinks.

  
“Been in and out of town?” An angry voice snarls, and suddenly Michael’s up in his face. Michael, who he remembers as full of fire and energy and ready to burst, who looks so tired, like this anger’s overdue. “Fuck you, Ray! You just fucking disappeared on us like that and you expect us to just believe that and be happy again?” He doesn't’ notice that Michael’s fists are clenched and that he’s shaking till the end.

  
Gavin’s arm is the one that tugs Michael back, worry in his green eyes. “Michael, boi,” He begins gently, like they’ve been through this conversation a million times before. “I’m sure he didn’t leave to hurt us. Just hear him out. Alright?” There’s a calm in Gavin’s voice that doesn’t match up with the hurt in his voice, and Ray wants to sink into the floor. Everything’s fucked, and all because of him.

  
The atmosphere is awkward and awful, and Ray hates it. He didn’t come here for the accusing, judging, scared glares of everyone. Even the faintest twitch of his arm feels like a knife cutting through solid butter, everyone watching like a hawk for his next move.

  
“Um-“ That was the newest crew member’s voice, piping up after what seemed like an eternity. Jeremy’s eyes flit left and right, looking back and forth at Ray and the rest of the crew. “You know, none of you really explained to me what happened when he left the crew. If I’m overstepping any boundaries, let me know, but... I’m still in the dark here.”

  
Ray tenses, expecting Michael to yell at him again or Gavin to look at him with sorrow or for Geoff to stare him down coolly. It’s a calm, quiet, solemn voice that reaches him first, though.

  
He feels an arm rest on his shoulder, eyes widening when he realizes who it is. “We had a job to do.” Jack mutters besides Ray, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. “It was a pretty big heist, and we were all out there in the field. Things went south real fast, and we all escaped with nothing more than a graze, but...” He trailed off, eyes sharpening down on Ray. “When we got back to the safehouse, Ray wasn’t anywhere to be found. We couldn’t contact him. It was like he’d dropped off the face of the planet.”

  
“We all fucking mourned, you know? Thought you hadn’t made it, and then half a year later Gavin finds camera recordings of you slipping through the city, and legging it out.” Michael interjects, practically spitting his words out. The cold fury in his eyes hasn’t died down either. “You let us think you were dead for half a year, Ray-“

  
“It wasn’t like that!” Ray cries indignantly, the redhead’s accusations making him feel sick with guilt again. “I was scared, okay? I was scared and everyone was getting shot at and the plan hadn’t worked. I wanted out, and I didn’t know how the hell I’d tell any of you without feeling even worse. I wasn’t thinking straight, I just... I had to go.”

  
Geoff stares at him again, cold. “You still left us behind, Ray, after we all trusted you...” His voice softens, to something almost vulnerable. He was always like a father to the lads, and Ray still hasn’t completely let it sink in that he did them more harm than good. “We could’ve helped you, you could’ve told us. And out of everything, you run away? Abandon us all?” His voice grows hard again, and Ray feels completely at a loss.

  
He’s alone in his former living room and about everyone’s against him and this isn’t what he wanted. He just wanted to say sorry, maybe get threatened with a gun, but - this was even worse, he thinks bitterly, and a part of him wishes he’d gotten shot in that last heist with the crew.

  
Ray can’t find it in himself to reply or look up, because Geoff’s words aren’t wrong. He fucked up, and he’s known that for the longest time. And now he can’t ever go back to group heists, poker nights, or a soft, sun-kissed smile and faint streaks of paint on the forehead and bright blue (just like the sky) eyes, waking up besides him-

  
A hot, white and uncomfortable feeling jolts up his spine.

  
“Where’s-“ Ray looks around the safehouse, something akin to desperation gleaming in his eyes. He sees how tired everyone looks now; everyone looks like they’ve aged ten years in the one he’s been gone. “Where’s... where’s Ryan?” He finally spits out his burning question, the lump in his throat refusing to move. Ryan was quiet, yes, but he wasn’t... here.

  
Ray trails off, and he looks at everyone. He sees how Geoff looks so much more tired, the creases in his brow darkening. Jack’s face is solemn, but his fists by his side are shaking. To the side, Gavin’s nervous smile is more tilted, flat, his lips pressed together. Michael is still staring at him with a glint of anger in his eyes, stirring up the guilt in the sniper’s stomach. Jeremy’s there, not even knowing him but staring at him, shocked.

  
His heart begins to race, and his mind flicks through the worst possibilities. Did he leave because of me? Is he just gone? Is he... dead? “Where is he?” Ray forces himself to repeat, the words slipping out and wincing like they hurt to say. His thoughts couldn’t be true- even if the looks on everyone’s faces said otherwise, it couldn’t be.

  
Not Ryan. Not the Vagabond, quiet and slipping away like the shadows and smooth and perfect- Not his Ryan, the mute man who smiled a small, gentle smile at him, who brushed their fingers together lightly, almost awkwardly, who he woke up to the morning illuminating the dimples in his face the first time Ryan took off his mask-

  
“He’s gone, Ray.” Michael cuts his frozen thoughts off, the anger in his voice slowly dying. “He’s dead. Gone. We couldn’t even get his fucking body-“ The redhead can’t finish, something guilt ridden in his tone. His usually fiery eyes are downcast, his back is hunched, and he takes a step backwards near the rest of the gang.

  
Ray’s mouth is dry, and he can’t do anything but stare in mute horror.

  
He wants to ask what the redhead means, why they couldn’t get his body, but time seems to come to a halt and the dark-haired man slips to his knees. Not his Ryan, with a gentle, awkward sort of smile and a careful touch, and his precision and perfectness and everything that made him _him_.

  
He thinks of Ryan, his light flickering when Ray disappeared into thin air, the same sinking feeling he has now pooling in the Vagabond’s stomach. He thinks of how Ryan quietly whispers greetings to him, hand brushing over his and mask sliding on. He thinks of Ryan, staring at him through the flames with betrayal and hurt-

  
The world seems to go fuzzy, and Ray crumples over, with five other sets of voices echoing around the darkness and nothing seems clear because Ryan, his Ryan, the Ryan he never stopped loving and never gave up on is gone.

  
Just like he did.


End file.
